


and i know that we're headstrong, and our heart's gone, and the timing's never right

by arrowsanonymous



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, art galleries and stuff, its not exactly college au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:47:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27640211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arrowsanonymous/pseuds/arrowsanonymous
Summary: five years after his fight with kronos, percy bumps into rachel one wintry day in new york.
Relationships: Rachel Elizabeth Dare/Percy Jackson
Comments: 6
Kudos: 20





	and i know that we're headstrong, and our heart's gone, and the timing's never right

Percy is twenty-two, and he’s still alive.

All his life, he’d been warned over and over again that he’d probably die by the time he reaches thirty. All his life, he’d been ready for it. He even had a mid-life crisis at seventeen. A child shouldn’t have to be ready to die every time they wake up, but Percy had gotten used to it.

That’s why the normalcy of what he’s doing right now—walking on the sidewalk, in front of shops and bakeries and cafés, holding a cup of coffee in his ungloved hand and his phone on the other, feeling the drink’s warmth around the cup like a protective energy sphere as he watches snowflakes fall from the sky to the ground—unnerves him. Cars and people rush all around him in a blur of noise, and though he’s always been exceptionally sensitive to most kinds of sensory input, a gift and a curse from his ADHD, he’d mastered the art of wearing and hiding earphones.

It blocks out eighty percent of what’s going on around him, the toasty feeling seeping through its paper container being one of the only things he is aware of other than the song playing through the device on his ears. The gods has always banned demigods from using phones or laptops, as monsters could find them easily through its wireless transmissions, but Percy had tangoed with death too many times, enough for him to build a resistance against caring about it. 

He walks to the rhythm of the song, letting it envelop him completely, occasionally lifting his drink and letting the sweet taste of the vanilla latte flood his tastebuds. Percy always had a sweet tooth, and even though now he’s in college, it never went away, just mellowed down. A joke that he often made when he still stayed the summers in Camp Half Blood was that he’d only give sweet foods up when he died. The oath is still held to heart by him, but medication had helped tone the need for sugar down.

But still, he likes sweet things—which is why when someone crashes into him with enough force to knock him down, his first reaction is not to save his phone, but to hold his latte suspended midair with his control over the water in it. Percy clenches his fist and the droplets moves back inwards, and with a dismissive gesture of his hand, he settles it on the ground. Nobody even blinks. They spare him a glance and returns to walking as fast as they could before snow can fully fall. Ah, yes. The Mist must’ve covered his little trick.

Sighing quietly, relieved that such good latte didn’t go to waste, Percy looks up from the concrete. The offender is a redhead, curly hair barely tamed with a beanie. Her pale skin is tinged rosy from the winter cold, freckles barely drowned by it, haunting green eyes that he’s sure he’s seen before. Gazing upon delicate features sculpted and blessed by the touch of a skilled craftsperson—not a god—Percy finds himself entranced by the girl. He regains his composure soon enough, shaking his head out of his thoughts.

Though, as he observes her in the stunned silence, both of them sitting on the cold, hard ground, her vibrant green eyes, as wide as saucers, and her paint-splattered coat with equally paint-splattered jeans combo are familliar...

“Are you Percy Jackson?” the girl blurts out.

“Rachel Dare?” Percy asks at the same time.

Her red lips curve up to reveal white teeth in a grin. “Oh my gods, you’re still alive! It’s been so long!” she says, eyes sparkling. Rachel Elizabeth Dare, the clear-sighted mortal who was one of Percy’s only tethers to mortality, brushes herself off and gets up easily, then offers a pale hand to him, ungloved and scarred from art. 

Percy’s gaze is fixated up at her, hair vibrant once more amongst the dull greys and blues of Manhattan, pale winter sunlight kissing her curls, the sunbeam forming a halo around her head. Her eyelashes are curled up, like a doll’s, and they are stuck in this prison of captivation where none of them wants to escape.

Snowflakes flutter all around them before it eventually turns into heavier snowfall. A few precious seconds—eternity to Percy and Rachel, long-lost friends and star-crossed lovers—passes, then as if they were unfrozen from time, Percy takes her hand and let her hoist him up. His phone screen is probably cracked again from that fall, but he slips it alongside the earphones in his coat pocket instead of checking it, and smiles, coffee still on the ground. “Long time no see, Rach.”

Rachel lets go of his hand, his palm missing the warmth immediately. She bends over and picks up his coffee cup before offering it to Percy. “The snow’s getting heavier—is there somewhere you have to be, or can we catch up?”

“I don’t particularly have anything on the agenda for a couple hours,” replies Percy, a small smile on his lips. “Come on, let’s go before we die of hypothermia.”

Percy starts walking, and Rachel meets his pace. “Are we finally going to hang out like two normal adults?” she questions lightly, pulling her coat tighter around her. “Talk without monsters chasing us to the ends of the Earth?”

A laugh escapes from Percy’s lips, the sound almost bitter. “No promises.”

“I suppose that’s the best I could get right now.”

Rachel smiles ruefully, eliciting a confused glance from Percy. He knows that some part of him, parts of his childhood and even small parts of the kindness he used to harbor has disappeared, his innocence completely destroyed, but there is always a piece of him that stares with sea-green, baby seal-like eyes and cocks his head to the side like a confused puppy whenever he wants to ask what’s wrong?

“Gods, I forgot how scary your demeanor changes are,” she says, “one second you sound like you’ve given up on life, the next second you look fifteen again.”

“Those two aren’t mutually exclusive,” Percy grins as he opens a door to a semi-crowded coffee shop. 

Rachel steps into the building. Percy closes the door behind her, immediately feeling the transformation from the chill outside to the warmth inside, the transformation from the sounds of traffic and city silence to the hustle and bustle of lively conversation. 

“So… what’s your coffee order? I just order whatever has ice in it,” Rachel says, walking towards the queue first. There are quite a lot of people in front of them, and Percy knows that just means more time to chat. Starting with coffee orders. “I’m not sure what you have there.”

He finishes the rest of his drink in a gulp, feeling the cooled liquid through the paper cup, before answering. “Vanilla latte. Though I think I’ll try another flavor, you know, like caramel? Live it up a little.”

Rachel grins, watching as Percy throws his now-empty cup to a trash can nearby. “Of course—sorry for almost spilling your drink, by the way, I wasn’t paying attention,” she says apologetically.

The line moves forward, and Percy fakes an offended tone as they step closer to the barista. “Well, you should, Dare. I’m not this pretty for nothing.” He shoots her a crooked grin.

She laughs, the sound like tinkling wind chimes brushed by a light breeze on a pleasant spring morning, and Percy can’t help but savor it. If he could preserve Rachel’s laughter and get drunk on it every night, he would.

“Can’t disagree with that,” Rachel replies. “Anyway, um… how’s Annabeth? How’s everyone. I know I kind of disappeared after the whole battle thing—got disowned, whatever—but I really missed everyone.”

Percy frowns, the euphoria of hearing Rachel laugh after so many years gone in a flash. “Annabeth’s fine. We don’t talk much. You got disowned?”

The line moves again. “Oh, yeah, but I got to an art college on a scholarship. My father always wanted me to be a proper lady, but I never fit that mold. I thought you were falling for Annabeth? What happened?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Percy says, reaching for Rachel’s hand. “All that matters is that you’re here now. Why are you here, anyway?”

She’s clearly curious, Percy knows, but opening old wounds isn’t really what Rachel does, so she looks out the large glass wall and back at him. “I’m… opening my art gallery here. First one. It’s going to be a full blown, all-out event. You should come.”

An art gallery. Percy smiles, their hand still intertwined, and nods. “I’d love to. But only if I can come as your date.”

“You’re bold as ever,” replies Rachel, but she’s also smiling. “But I like it that way. It’s in two days, by the way—I’ll give you my number.”

Percy laughs and hands her his phone as Rachel steps forward to the waiting barista, who asks for her order. She smiles. “One caramel latte, and an iced coffee.”

“And the names?” the barista asks.

“Rachel for the iced coffee. Percy for the other.”

The barista nods, scribbling it on the cups. “Alright,” they say, “that’ll be $7,11.”

Rachel pulls out her purse, and pays before Percy can intervene. As they walk out of the line, he frowns. “Why didn’t you let me pay?”

She spots an empty table and immediately secures it, only responding after taking a seat. “Oh, it’s on me. Think of it as a gift after years of not seeing each other.”

Percy tilts his head to the side. “You’re here. That’s enough for me.”

**Author's Note:**

> fuck uh take this lmk if u want a sequel or some shit


End file.
